Fit
by LemonStar
Summary: ..Marcus/Hermione.. "You should have said something. Ron and Harry always had to reign me in. That's your job now."


**_A/N: Oh goodness, I've missed this pairing._**

…

The pub was packed that evening as he entered, snow melting in his black unkempt hair, but even through the smoke and the crowd, he spotted her, sitting at their usual table in the back, close to one of the large stone fireplaces. It looked as if she had been there for some time – her coat was draped over the back of her chair, her hair had been pulled up into a ponytail, and she was drinking something from a cup – probably tea – as she read the heavy leather-bound book open on the table in front of her. The noise surrounding her didn't seem to bother her as her eyes were quick across the printed words, her fingers gently turning the delicate pages from the corners.

He watched her for a moment from the door, staring and observing and taking in every single detail about her though he had long ago memorized her. He noticed a few other blokes looking in her direction, casual glances over their mugs of Butterbeer and glasses of fire whisky but he noticed and his hands instinctively curled into fists. It both amused and exasperated her that he was still so quick to lose his temper but he had a suspicion that she rather enjoyed him being possessive of her. It would make her cheeks flush and her eyes darken when he wrapped his arms around her and haul her body to his in front of a room of people, silently staking his claim of her. Though, he supposed, the wedding band on her ring finger spoke louder than his fists ever could.

He finally moved forward, unbuttoning his coat as he did and unwrapping his scarf. Someone greeted him with a clap on the back but he didn't even notice who it was. His eyes were set on her and finally feeling his intent and determined stare on her, she lifted her head to see him approaching, a smile instantly blooming across her face at the sight of him. He almost smiled, too. She was the only person – maybe besides his mother – who could get him to even think of actually smiling instead of producing his usual snarl.

"Hi," she greeted, sounding almost breathless, and she kept her eyes tilted up to him as she closed her book. Instead of responding, he bent down and with his hands sliding over her cheeks, he kissed her. When he pulled away, he opened his eyes to find that she was already looking at him, her own eyes sparkling. "So who was looking at me this time?" She teased him and he smirked, sliding away from her and sitting down in the empty chair across the table from her.

"Did you order yet?" He asked instead.

"Just tea. I wanted to wait for you," she carefully placed the book aside. "You're a bit late," she then said as he shed himself of his coat.

"I was going to owl if it had been much later," he rubbed a hand over his hair. "I didn't mean to keep you waiting."

She smiled faintly. "I didn't mind. I was just getting a bit worried. Is it work?"

He nodded. "I sometimes really hate my job."

She smiled again though because she knew better. "No, you don't. And if you needed to finish something up, you know you didn't have to rush here to meet me."

"Dinner with my wife or being stuck in the office? I know what you would have chosen," he smirked, looking at her as a waitress dropped off two menus and hurried away again.

"I actually don't have a wife so I'm not sure what I would choose," she teased him back.

He shook his head, the corner of his mouth upturned in a smirk and he glanced at the menu in his hands before back at her. "And how was your day?" He asked.

"Fantastic," she burst into a smile as if she had been hoping he would ask. She absolutely adored her job at the Department of International Magical Cooperation and though there was always too much to do and she pushed herself harder than anyone else – though he didn't understand that because if there was one person who didn't have anything else to prove, it was her – she was always so happy at the mere mention of her work.

Work, for her, was particularly insane at the moment because of the World Quidditch Cup was fast approaching and her department was in charge of working with the other wizarding communities in other countries to pull it all together. He was actually surprised that she had arrived at the pub before him for dinner that night. Even when they were both home, she was staying up too late in her study, crouched over piles of parchment and he had to bite his tongue to keep from lecturing her about the circles under her eyes. She loved her job and who was he to tell her to slow down? He had known her to be passionate about her causes before they married and he wasn't going to force change.

He also had a demanding job but he was able to leave it all at the Ministry when he left for home every night. He had worked hard and after being part of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol, he had applied to be considered for the position of Hit Wizard, the team of highly trained wizards tasked with arresting the dangerous criminals. She had told him once that it was like a Muggle S.W.A.T. team but he had no idea what that was. When he had first told her that he wanted to become a member, she had swallowed her apprehension. Hit Wizards had their own personal bed reserved at St. Mungo's. But it was what he wanted and she supported him completely and had help him prepare for it. He had been in the position for six months now and she knew how much more he enjoyed it than when he had simply been on patrol.

"I know you don't care for either team this year but you do still plan on coming this year with me, yes?" She asked him as if she had to ask. He was absolutely mad about Quidditch – like almost every other man in her life – and due to her position in the department, she received special passes to the World Cup every year and because of all she had done in the battle against Voldemort, she also received a special, private box.

He gave her a look as if she was daft for asking and she laughed a little, shaking her head.

The waitress came to take their orders and after they were alone again, she reached across the table and he covered her hand with his. They leaned in and it was as if they were completely alone. It was always like this for him when he was with her. He didn't care about anything around him the instant he was with her. It had surprised their mates when they had first become a couple and they had all watched the pair with curious eyes. It had been at The Three Broomsticks and they had stayed near one another the entire night. His hand would rest on one of her hips, she would look up at him, smiling and saying something as she rested her hands on his chest. They whispered and smiled – he actually smiled which shocked his friends – and they were such an odd pairing – certainly never one that anyone would think of putting together – but yet, after that evening, it was generally just accepted that they were a couple now.

They met after the Final Battle at Hogwarts in the Great Hall. He had been a Slytherin but he and many of his housemates had fought on Harry's side, some having to come face to face with their Death Eater parents – including his father. He had noticed her standing amongst the rubble with Harry and Ron afterwards and she had been crying, hugging Ron tightly. And even though the Hall was crowded with the survivors, he felt as if he was intruding, watching. Hours later, he had gone outside to breathe fresh air and he had seen her sitting on a step, hugging her knees to her chest and her eyes staring off at some distant point. He wasn't sure why he did – he still didn't know – but he sat down next to her. They looked at one another but neither said a word and the minutes ticked by.

"You look different," she had then said softly. "You fixed your teeth."

He ran his tongue over the two straight rows and then nodded slightly. "Your hair isn't as crazy," he then commented and for the first time in what felt like years to her, she smiled.

The waitress appeared with their food and their hands reluctantly parted so they could eat. Watching them eat only showcased their differences. She draped the napkin in her lap and took small bites, blowing on the food so not to burn herself while he was eating so fast, shoveling it in, she sometimes teased him, wondering if he was even tasting it. She sipped her soup and he pushed his plate of chips closer to her so she could take a few for herself as he nearly inhaled the piece of beef he had ordered.

"Tomorrow's Saturday," she told him as if she was stating a fact from one of her books.

He nodded. "You going to the office?" He asked, pausing in eating just enough to speak without food in his mouth – a pet peeve of hers.

She smiled. "I have been a bit busy lately, haven't I?"

"I think this is the longest I've seen you awake for nearly two months now. You're in bed when I'm asleep, gone when I wake up-"

"Oh, no," she covered her hands with her face, shaking her head, before looking at him. "You should have said something. Ron and Harry always had to reign me in. That's your job now," she said.

He smirked. "I'm flattered that you think I have any sort of control over you."

She beamed. "Well, tonight I think we should go home and spend some quality time together in our bed. It's been a bit of time since we last-"

"Two weeks, two days and eleven hours," he spouted off and she stared at him for a moment before dissolving into laughter. He smiled.

"Right," she nodded, tucking curly brown strands of hair behind her ears as her head bobbed up and down. "So I think we should definitely go home tonight to our bed and stay there all day tomorrow. Unless, of course, you… object?"

He didn't hesitate in reaching into his pocket and dropping a few galleons onto the table. She began laughing again. She was probably the only person in his life to find him entertaining. She absolutely amazed him – her beauty and intelligence and brightness. Two years together and he was still a bit clueless as to why she was with a bloke like him. Then again, he did have to repeat a year at Hogwarts while she was one of the brightest witches to walk through the halls. She obviously understood more than him.

They finished their meals and didn't linger as they sometimes did after supper. He paid their bill and then helped her into her coat. As she wrapped her scarf around her neck and fished for her hat from her bag, he slipped his own coat and scarf on and then took hold of her heavy book, holding it under one arm as she slipped hers through his other one, holding and hugging it to her chest. It was a cold night and it smelled like snow in the air. They walked down the quiet street of Diagon Alley, heading back towards their flat.

"Is everything alright?" She asked though she was more than used to his silence.

"Just thinking," he shrugged.

"About work?"

"About you."

"Me?"

He nodded, looking down at her. "I think about you a lot." He knew that the rosiness on her cheeks was her blushing and not from the slight nip of wind in the air. "Does that surprise you?" He hoped it didn't.

She shook her head. "No. I just like… I really love hearing things like that sometimes."

"I'll be sure to say it more then," he decided.

She smiled and squeezed his arm tighter. "I love you. I love you because you are so different than what I ever thought or expected. You make me laugh and you make me happy and you take me by surprise every single day."

He was quiet for a moment, too overwhelmed to speak. He knew she loved him and though she was never one to shy away from voicing her feelings, a part of him still had to get used to it whenever he did. He knew how lucky he was to have this woman with him, married to him, in love with him, and he never wanted a day to go by where he took her for granted. He was Marcus Flint and she was Hermione Granger-Flint and it still amazed even them sometimes that they were together. They met one another when she needed to laugh and he, surprisingly, could do that for her. They met one another when he needed someone to lean against and surprisingly, she could hold him up. Despite having absolutely nothing in common, they were there and together, they just seemed to fit.

He kissed the side of her head and she closed her eyes, smiling, hugging his arm. "I love you, too. You know that, don't you?"

"Of course I do," she beamed up at him and he smirked.

"They don't call you the brightest witch of her age for nothing. But I bet tonight, in our bed, I can teach you a few more things, too," he said and her laughter echoed throughout the quiet night.

…


End file.
